our tarnished souls stay tethered
by Prophet of Doom
Summary: "Don't play with me, Stefan. We're past that. So I'll ask you again, my friend: where is Rebekah?" Spoilers through 3x09. Klaus/Stefan/Rebekah


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I just live through it all.

**Author's Note:** Written for the prompt "_Now she hates me. I have taught her that, at least."_

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><p><strong>our tarnished souls stay tethered<strong>

When Klaus finally catches up to Stefan, his arm pressing against the younger vampire's throat and his eyes full of betrayal, his first words are not what Stefan expects to hear. And yet somehow they are the only words he could have said.

"Where. Is my sister."

Stefan thinks about making a quip, maybe asking, "Which one?" He hasn't opened the coffins he carries with him, but there could be other girls with blonde hair, blue eyes, and golden chains that shackle them to their once-brother. But he isn't playing Damon anymore – he's playing Katherine. So he tries to chuckle even as he chokes. Because Klaus could only ever be talking about Rebekah.

"I don't know, Klaus. And I don't care."

Klaus only jams his forearm harder against his windpipe. "Wrong answer." Then Stefan is flying, tossed across the room like an unwanted toy, landing with a hard thud. He gasps in a gulp of air, but Klaus is on him in an instant, hand over his heart, fingertips pressing into the flesh just enough. They sting as his chest rises and falls with each breath.

"Don't play with me, Stefan. We're past that. So I'll ask you again, my _friend_," he spits. "Where is Rebekah?"

Stefan stares up at him steadily, searching for the comrade and finding only the master. "Why does it matter? If she wanted to be with you, she would be."

Klaus's grin is a shard of metal, warped with heat and disdain. "It matters, Stefan, because she's my sister. She's _mine_."

Stefan's laugh then is genuine, a wheezing chortle rushing down his bruised throat like a breeze. "You really don't get it, do you? She doesn't want you anymore. She _knows_, Klaus. She knows what you did to your mother. She knows _everything_."

The pressure above his heart disappears, as he expected it to, and Stefan lies still for a moment, staring at the ceiling and relishing the liberty to breathe. He pushes himself up on his elbows to look at Klaus. The hybrid is sitting back on the floor, his left arm resting against his upraised leg. The pose is casual, arrogant, and not at all what Stefan had anticipated. There was no devastation on his face, no shock or horror or revelation. Klaus merely smiles, that infuriating smile that screams of secret knowledge.

"Good."

That one word strikes Stefan cold. He wills his expression to remain impassive, but he can't help his eyebrows from rising in query. "Good? Do you understand what this means?"

Klaus's smile doesn't waver. "Oh, I understand. The question is, do you?"

This moment is not what it was supposed to be. He needs Katherine here to help him improvise. He needs Damon here to remind him why he's doing all of this. More than anything, he needs a new plan.

"She hates you now."

"And that is exactly what I needed."

Dumbstruck, Stefan stays silent. He's always understood Klaus. He sees the little boy, desperate to be loved, seeking someone to accept him. He sees the man who confined his sister to a coffin for 90 years, just to keep her. But this…how could this be what he wants?

After a frozen moment, Klaus breaks the silence, his tone convivial despite the ice in his eyes. "You know my sister, Stefan. She's a sweetheart, that girl. Never did have much of a taste for carnage. She could be ruthless, but she was never cruel. Never vindictive. Never, well, me." He looks down, his eyes seeing scenes long since passed. "She wouldn't understand how it felt. To have…that _woman_ turn her back on me. To watch her turn to my father and call me her greatest mistake. There's too much light in Rebekah. She couldn't understand…the rage." Suddenly, Klaus looks up, his gaze boring into Stefan's like a dagger. "I had to make her understand."

It dawns on him, then. And Stefan could cry from the absurdity of it all. They were all playing right into Klaus's hands. Always part of the plan.

"Rebekah loved our mother, and she loves so fiercely. But she's been with me for a thousand years. I've been working on her, bit by bit. Creating her. I love my sister. But I taught her to hate."

Stefan tries to speak, but his throat feels dry, crackling with strain and futility. He forces the words through anyway. "But she hates _you_. How can you expect her to come back to you?"

Klaus only grins. "Because how could she not? She understands now. What it is to hate. What it does to you. So she knows why."

He understands too, now. "Why you killed your mother."

"Precisely. She had to hate me to forgive me."

It's all spiraling out of control, and Stefan's head reels from it. He keeps talking, because what else can he do?

"What makes you so sure she'll forgive you? She might hate you anyway."

The look Klaus bestows upon him is steeped with condescension and pity. "I'm all she has. I made sure of that."

Stefan stares at this man, this man who has been his tormentor, his corruptor, his friend. He thinks that maybe he doesn't know him at all.

"I don't know where she is." He answers truthfully. He has nothing left to say.

Klaus nods. "Alright then. Let's find her, shall we?" He stands fluidly, dusting off his jeans and glancing around the empty room imperiously. He reaches down, offering a hand to Stefan, still processing on the floor. Stefan looks at that hand, his own blood crusted under its fingernails, palm up, waiting for him. He takes it.


End file.
